


Q's nephew

by traveler0145



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Chaos, Good Mordred (Merlin), M/M, Oblivious James Bond, Q (James Bond) is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveler0145/pseuds/traveler0145
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Q's nephew

Q woke up in at 03:08 am because there was someone in his flat. 

Someone other than himself, Mordred, Turing and Hawking. Q silently prayed that whoever it was could be killed quietly, so the cats wouldn’t wake. 

He kept his eyes closed and listened. He could tell the someone wasn't moving, even though the door to the living room was shut. He turned his head to the bedside table, where his phone and glasses were sitting. He reached out, carefully avoiding to make any noise, put on his glasses, unlocked the phone and and logged into his security feed. 

Apparently the intruder had had the decency to enter the flat trough the front door, which was a feat in itself. 

Q selected the camera the monitored the door and went through the timeline. The feed was monotonous until two minutes ago, when a figure had walked up to the camera and opened the door with a key. Before entering the figure looked around, exposing their face to Q’s camera. 

It was Bond. Who else would manage to steal acquire a key to his flat and show up in the middle of the night. 

Q sighed and slipped out from under his comforter. He then reached under the bedside table where one of his personal guns was located and slipped it into the waistband of his pyjamas. He knew the double ohs well enough to know that taking a gun would be the best course of action. 

Now armed, he opened the bedroom door. "Bond. What are you doing in my living room." 

Bond was sitting on the couch, illuminated by the light of a half-moon that shone through the window. "Q! how nice to see you, what a coincidence." 

"You've gotten yourself injured and the best thing you can think of is to break into my flat. Hospitals exist, you know that right?" 

"Oh Q, I missed you. How did you know I was injured?" 

"Posture." Q sighed. 

"Ok, thats fair. You don't happen to have a bandaid or twenty lying around, do you?" 

Q sighed deeply and went to retrieve the MI6 issued medi-kit from under the bathroom sink. "Over here Bond. I don't want any stains on my couch." 

Bond stood and even in the relative darkness of the room Q could tell that it was a painful endeavour. Not a grazing shot then. Q searched the medi-kit for needle and thread. Bond sat down on the tiled floor, already pulling up his shirt over his left hip, where the bullet had dug into the flesh but had luckily been stopped by the hip bone. 

Apparently the shot had been long distance, which would make the surgery relatively easy. Bond groaned when Q poured disinfectant over the wound. 

"Honestly, Q. There is an intruder in your flat and you’re not even armed. What do they even teach you in basic training anymore." 

Instead of answering Q pressed down a cotton swab on the bullethole and pulled out his P99 from his waistband. 

"...Touché" 

"Now if you'd be so kind and refrain from talking. You’re not making this any easier for either of us and I swear to god, if your noise wakes the cats or Mordred I'll-" 

"Too late for that." Came a sleepy voice from the living room. 

Bond was already half on his feet, trying to shield Q with his body, before Q could stop him. 

"Hi. I'm Mordred." The boy, he could’t be older than 17, waved sluggish. 

Bond looked hesitant but slowly sat back down again. 

Q pinched the bridge of his nose with his unbloodied hand. 

Bond smirked. "Didn't know you were the 'married with kids' kind of person." 

"You do realise I can kill you, 007." 

Bond looked stunned at the mention of his designation. he looked from Q to the kid and back to the quartermaster. "Uh, Q..." 

"What."Q snapped. 

If the Quartermaster wanted to throw around his top secret designation so be it. Q knew what he was doing. 

"...Nevermind." 

"I don't think he wants me here. "the kid murmured turning away, obviously still half asleep. "I'll go back to bed." 

Q sighed. "Now that’s is some good thinking. Bond, hold still." he picked the pair of tweezers. "This might hurt a tad."

Somehow James ended up in Q’s bed. With a very disgruntled Quartermaster in it. 007, being himself, couldn't resist commenting. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you should have just asked, Q. I mean I don't usually go for married people when off mission, but I'll make an exception for you." 

"Shut up or I'll put you on the couch." 

"Pray tell, if I’m annoying you so bad, why am I not already there? Should I inform the other agents that you're secretly concerned about our well being or do just like me?" 

"That couch was my mothers, and she is ready to maim anyone who leaves stains on it." 

"...Stains, huh? Got it. Thats the no-fun zone." 

"You should know that I am also ready to maim anyone who keeps me from sleeping." 

"Good night, Q"

Bond woke at 6:38 am precisely. 

Someone was working in the kitchen, and since the bed was empty, save himself, it was probably Q. Or his son, apparently. Come to think of it, if Q was married and had a son, where was his wife? 

The smell of toast and freshly brewed earl grey wavered into the bedroom and James decided that those were questions for another time.

The kitchen was, to Bonds surprise, well stocked and maintained. 

He wouldn't have pegged Q for the cooking type but he hadn't pegged Q for the married-with-kids type either so that was that. 

Q was just pouring a mug of tea when James limped in. The boy - Mordred, what a peculiar name - was sitting on a stool, nursing his own tea. 

In the light of day his dark brown hair seemed to be a similar shade as Q's, while his pale blue eyes were a little unnerving, but that could be a side effect of him being a teenager. Everyone knew teenagers were dangerous creatures as they didn't need sleep and had fatal levels of cynicism, sarcasm and caffeine running through their veins.

Q handed James a mug of steaming tea, which tore him out of his staring. 

"You should sit down." Q advised, pointing towards a kitchen table with three mismatched chairs. "And you should go to medical. I'm head of Q branch not a doctor." He hesitated for a second. "Well I am a doctor, just not of medicine. My point is: get that checked out, or I'll kill you." 

"Aw don’t worry, I will, or it might kill me first." 

"As if you wouldn't just come back from the dead to just to annoy me, hm 007?" Q smiled sweetly, something dangerous lacing his tone. 

"I have before, I could do it again. Given a good enough reason." Bond eyed Q provocatively up and down. 

Q just sighed and turned to take the slices of toast out of the toaster, placing them on a plate. "I assume you will join me on my way to work, seeing as your flat is on the way and you need to stop there for new clothes?" 

Bond looked down at himself. He was wearing his boxer briefs and a tee shirt that definitely wasn't his. Since there was as science pun on it, he was pretty sure it was Q's.

“Yeah.... that might be a good idea.” James mused and went to find his slacks. 

***

“So, what kind of a name is ‘Mordred’ anyway?” Bond asked the boy some months later. 

He had broken in again and again and at some point Q had given in and made him his own key, which only made Bond come by more often. 

Now he was sitting on the no-stains-allowed couch, enjoying a cup of perfectly brewed Rooibos tea he had gifted Q a few weeks prior. Mordred, currently located in the kitchen, was busy making dinner for himself and Q, who was still at Q-branch handling 009′s Washington mission. 

Mordred, who rarely ever talked, much less with Bond, kept dicing onions and garlic. After half a minute of silence, just when James thought he might never get an answer, the boy opened his mouth. “It’s from the Arthurian legends. According to the popular legends Mordred was Arthur’s son.”

“You say ‘popular’ like you know better...”

“Well-” Mordred smiled ever so slightly. “-I know Arthur is my uncle.”

James grinned. “Is your mother a historian by any chance?”

Mordred shook his head and turned his attention back to the stove. “My mother is a PA. But her name is Morgause and her half sister is called Morgana - you know, like, from the Legends? -, so she thought it would be funny.” 

James smiled and emptied his cup. Now that was something he could tease Q about. 

Q chose that exact moment to stumble in through the door. He looked like he was dead on his feet. His tie was askew and his hair ruffled. He closed the door behind him, hung his parka on the mantle piece and placed his messenger bag on a nearby drawer, but his movements were that of someone who was kept awake only be caffeine and spite. 

By the time he reached the living room his eyes where almost completely shut. He dropped down on the couch where James was still sitting, but Bond just steadied him as Q slumped against him. 

“James?”

“Hello dear Quartermaster. You do know that sleep is essential for your personal health, right?”

Q only groaned and closed his eyes. 

***

Four hours later Q woke to the smell of pasta and the clinking of cutlery being placed on a table. He sat up and opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. He groaned. Someone entered the living room. 

“James?”

“No this is Patrick.” James answered deadpan. “Honestly Q, I thought you were supposed to be smart!” 

“Firstly, You took my glasses. You should be glad I can distinguish you from Mordred right now. Secondly, why are you quoting Sponge bob at me?” Q asked in a tone that made it very clear that he was ready to murder someone or just fall asleep again at any moment.

“...Oh, yeah. I forgot about the glasses. You look adorable with out them, I have to say. Here you go--” James care fully placed Q’s glasses on his nose. 

Q blinked twice and waited for his eyes to focus again. Right in front of him was James, smiling widely. Q shrunk back and tried to stand up in an effort to hide the slight blush on his cheeks. 

“So. Why were you quoting sponge bob again?”

James took a step forward and held Q on his upper arms so he wouldn’t keel over. “I don’t know what Sponge bob is but that’s what Mordred sat to me when I ran into him in the city the other day.”

Q rubbed his forehead. “Ah yes, he does that. And here I was, thinking you knew what memes were.”

“Whats a meme?”

***

Mordred cooking, James decided, was divine. 

“You should become a Chef.” James mused, after finishing his third plate of Aglio olio and fourth glass of wine. 

“How about I finish school first.” Mordred aswered snarkily. 

Q snorted. “Aren’t you planning on becoming a pharmacist or bodyguard?”

James shook his head in confusion. “How are those two even related.”

Mordred looked at him weirdly.” They're not.” 

“Then why would you? ...nevermind.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Mordred is interning with my uncle Gaius whose a Apothecary. if He’s good enough when Gaius retires he could have a change at taking, over like I did.”

“last I checked you were running Q-branch...”

“-and before me uncle Boothroyd was Q.”

James turned to Q. “Boothroyd was your uncle? That explains... so much.”

Mordred sighed. “could you leave the flirting till I'm back in my room.”

Q sat up straight. “He wasn’t flirting.”

“I was.”

“Since when?” 

“Since before I broke into your flat. But sadly you’re faithful and straight and all that crap.”

Mordred let his head fall into his hands. “Here we go...” he muttered under his breath. 

“And who would I be faithful to, exactly?”

“Your wife?”

“My--?” Q sputtered. 

“Mordred’s mother?”

“Wait, you thought I was straight?”  
Mordred raised his hand. “You do know I’m not actually Q’s son, right?”

James turned to Mordred. “Wait, what?”

Q looked almost gleeful as he explained. “Mordred is my sibling’s... .” Q turned to Mordred. “What do they call you?” 

“Mostly ‘a baby’”

“No, no there was something else...”

“Lovechild? Morgause-spawn? Heir to the throne?”

“They really call you that?”

“I don’t have a second name, so they had to improvise when they were angry.”

Q shrugged. “Well, point stands. Mordred isn’t my son. He lives with me because he’s kind of my siblings adopted son? But he can’t live with them and their husband and apparently I can’t take care of my self or something--” the last part was muttered. “--So he lives with me.”

Mordred was staring at James wide eyed. “Wait. You thought I was Q’s son? Honestly? Q? Your Gaydar is BLOODY SHITE. YURUSENAI!”

James flinched and faced Q, who was rolling his eyes at Mordred. “Translation please?” 

Q smirked at him. “He says your ability to build context about inter person relations and read peoples attractions is rather bad and that he won’t forgive you for thinking he was blood related to me.” Q paused. “I would be rather offended by that last statement if it wasn’t for the blatant sarcasm.”

James smiled dreamily. “This is why I love you.”

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

Mordred took a sip of his water. “He said he loved you.”


End file.
